Burning House Press, an online literary magazine, just published Storey Clayton’s narrative nonfiction piece “The Rest of the Story.” Guest Editor Petero Kalulé, a Ugandan poet who just published his debut collection, selected the piece as part of the magazine’s…
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Toronto-based literary magazine Blood & Bourbon just published its fifth edition, featuring a theme of “Conflict.” This collection includes Storey Clayton’s narrative nonfiction piece “Uber Confessions,” which describes an overheard marital spat between two drunk riders. This is the sixth…
I just got back into yoga. It took a while, largely because I was adjusting to life in an MFA program, the routine of writing for workshop, the rhythm of reading so many other people’s works while striving to work…
Newly founded literary journal Spitfire Literary Magazine just published Storey Clayton’s narrative nonfiction story “With Friends Like These.” This story puts readers behind the wheel for a memorable ride with a particularly inebriated rider at a critical juncture in his…
UK-based literary journal Riggwelter Press just published Storey Clayton’s essay “Lost and Found.” This essay examines Uber ridership through items accidentally discarded in the car, culminating in a poignant vignette. This work is the third excerpt from Clayton’s rideshare memoir…
When it snows, I’m accustomed to rushing to the window, plastering my eyes against the glass, feeling the eyebrow-brush against icy pane as I struggle to find contrast. At night, I look at lamplight, dull yellow or hard sodium orb,…
The first-year literary journal Montana Mouthful just published its third issue online and in print. The collection, with a theme of “haunting,” includes Storey Clayton’s narrative nonfiction piece, “Mortals.” This work is an excerpt from Clayton’s rideshare memoir, Driving for…
A giant glass case crammed with taxidermy birds stands just outside the classroom where, in three hours’ time, I will begin teaching at West Virginia University for the first time. Overhead, resplendent avians of prey, wings outstretched, clutch equally dead…
You awake with a start, bolt upright, an I-overslept-my-job-interview panic in your pulse, but of course it’s hours too early and there’s barely any light making it through the new rectangle of blinds at an angle unfamiliar relative to your…